


Plaything

by devotchka



Series: Captive & Conquered [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Begging, Come Marking, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: He looks up at you with big, wide blue eyes, and maybe he's wondering why he isn't in the process of dying anymore; maybe he's thinking about how you could kill him any time you want.It wakes up an appetite in you.You want this one. You want him entirely.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Mr. X | Tyrant T-00
Series: Captive & Conquered [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905661
Comments: 6
Kudos: 356





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark one. Read at your own risk, and mind the content warnings, please.

He’d put up a fight – a commendable one, and still one that meant nothing. Leon kneels below you, panting, and you compare the deathly, decayed grey of your skin to the vibrant, smooth tan of his, the heat radiating from him a call to be consumed.

He tries to flinch away as you lean over him, but you grab him by the throat and lift his entire frame as if it were nothing. Your arm lifts him up until he's partway above your own head, and then you slam his back into the nearest wall. Some choked noise escapes him at that.

You can hear him gagging now. His hands try to pry your fingers off his airway; his strong legs kick wildly at nothing. You toy with him, slamming his body back into that wall from time to time, until you're bored and he's hardly struggling at all.

Leon is all hard angles and firm muscle beneath your hands, feebly squirming. You can hear the panic in him and feel his shame. It greatly appeals to you. It makes you feel something deep down, something dormant and antagonistic and wanting.

He's barely conscious. He might not be at all. His hands go from weak to limp, one draped over your wrist and the other loose at his side. You drop him just to watch the way he falls.

His response is almost instant, a lot of coughing and gasping after he's crumpled to the floor, rolling onto his back as you circle around him and observe. He looks up at you with big, wide blue eyes, and maybe he's wondering why he isn't in the process of dying anymore; maybe he's thinking about how you could kill him any time you want.

It wakes up an appetite in you. You want this one. You want him entirely.

He snaps back into focus as you crouch down at his feet. He starts to pull himself back and away from you before you grab him by his ankles and tug him back in. There's no grace in these movements. His hands scramble to find purchase against the smooth, unforgiving ground, and his body writhes uselessly, all for nothing. He's so far forward by the time you're done that his hips are almost in your lap, his knees draped over one of your shoulders.

You lock those in place with one powerful arm as the other one shoots out and settles on the seat of his jeans to tug at the button there. For a second, Leon freezes. His lips part to speak and nothing actually falls from them.

Eventually he remembers that he can move. He tries to stop you. He asks, "What are you doing?"

He is useless against your weight, far too malleable in your hands, and you respond to his frantic grabbing and struggling by pushing closer into him, effectively folding him against you at the waist, freeing your grip by trapping his legs between the two of you.

Leon continues to grab at you. He demands you let him go, demands that you get off of him, all pointlessly. His hands move once to grab at your face, and you backhand him so hard that his head smacks into the ground below him.

Someone so strong, so confident that he would never willingly bow to another -- here he is, bowing to you now, and he doesn't like it. But you do. The way he struggles just spurs you on. It affirms your limitless, unquestionable power.

You ache to claim him.

It isn't hard with him bent under you like this to work his pants open, and to tug them down below his thighs. Your palm presses first against his front, unkindly, as you search for a hole to violate. He hisses under his breath, trying to flinch away from you and your prying grasp. And then you find it. You feel the heat coming off of him as you touch him there, spreading him open, your fingertips pressing against tight, virgin muscle.

He is less demanding now, and more in denial. He says no over and over as you prod at him like it might change your mind. It doesn't. If you feel sorry for him in any capacity, it's for the failure to realize just what this means. You won't be killing him anytime soon.

Now that you've found the warm, tight, heat you were searching for, you free your cock and unceremoniously begin to push into it. Leon's body resists you, and you enter by sheer force. He throws his head back, pressing his lips tight against each other to muffle his own scream, his body stilling of its struggle.

You barely get the tip of your cock through him, must work in short, shallow thrusts, and really _make him_ accommodate your size.

You're not even halfway in when his composure cracks for the first time, his breath hitching before he forces out a pained, "Stop. Oh my god, _stop_."

By the time you bottom out inside of him he's trembling. You can feel it in his legs, that gentle shaking he's fighting to stop, to deny in hopes that you don't notice. Prideful as always. You wonder what he must look like inside, filled with your cock.

He tries to endure it with grace as you fuck him mercilessly, refusing to look at you, and refusing to let you hear him scream. You look at the spaces where your skin connects with his, how healthy his complexion is, how fertile his body must be. He's tense, squeezing tightly around your cock, his eyes shut like he can deny what you're currently doing to him as his body rocks between the cold ground and your equally cold body.

He is resigned to this. He knows that he won't be going anywhere until you want him to, and he knows wholeheartedly that he can't stop you from taking him.

You reposition him slightly, opening his legs and spreading them between your shoulders before you lean back over him, pressing him down so tightly his knees dig into his chest. Finally, noise escapes him. He whimpers against the force of your thrusting, that tight clinging heat around your cock growing even tighter, twitching as you pound into him. He makes another sound, a moan -- soft, dreading, breathless. "Stop. _Please_."

You don't.

You realize, at the sound of another moan dying in his throat, that he's coming, his face flushed with shame. You realize that some part of him -- just his body, perhaps -- is enjoying this like you are.

He was made for you. You know this. He would not have been left in your space had he not been intended to be your plaything.

His back arches, his body shaking even with your grip bruise-deep, and you imagine him full of you again. You can feel the tightness of his insides, the way your hips snap against him, your cock buried all the way at the end of every thrust. You fuck him as fast as you like. When you come, it's as deep as you can manage.

Leon's face is flushed with shame, and you stay inside him for a moment, even as you sit up onto your knees with his legs limply dangling over your shoulders. He's panting. His hands move to cover his face, and you wonder if he feels like crying.

Your hands grip his waist, and it's so narrow compared to you that your fingers easily meet in the middle. They splay out against his abdomen where just moments ago you were violating him. You feel wetness in your lap, your own come dripping out of him, and you watch the quick rise and fall of his chest. You think that you would not mind keeping him, at least for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

Leon’s begging you not to do it as you throw him in an empty jail cell. He backs up all the way to the wall as you follow him inside, closing the door behind the two of you, and the fear is obvious in his wild blue eyes.

You advance on him immediately.

Leon sees you closing in and knows that he can’t stop you. He backs even closer against the wall as if he might go through it, as if it might somehow protect him, saying “Don’t touch me!” as his hands fly up to defend himself from you.

You grab him by the hips and tug him in.

“No!”

You twist him around like it’s nothing, pushing his face into the brick wall behind him, and he writhes beneath your grip, moaning in pain.

“ _Stop_!”

You understand what he’s saying, and you don’t care. You want this. You want _him_ , again and again, and you’ve never known denial before.

You wrestle his pants down past his thighs and Leon resists, slamming his legs closed and grabbing at your hands – a multitude of small, feeble gestures that ultimately prove useless.

“Help! Someone help me!” He yells, sounding frantic as he’s pulled to his knees.

He tries to push you away as you drag him down. He tries to tell you to stop as you shove him face first into the ground. He seems _more_ afraid this time, somehow, and you remember the way he looked beneath you the last time this happened, the way he begged you to stop even as he trembled and came.

You have an easier time navigating his body this time around, your hand slipping between his legs, your fingertips brushing against his hole. He shakes as you touch him there. You wonder how much of that is from pleasure.

“Please.” He gasps, and this time he’s speaking directly to you. “Please don’t do this to me.”

You ignore his begging, toying with him, rubbing along his hole as he shivers in horrible, shameful anticipation. He feels warm and tense and wonderful.

Leon’s still wet with your come. You feel it in between his legs, clinging to your fingers, and you smear the liquid across his skin before pulling your hand back.

Your free hand still pins him down, but Leon barely struggles. He flinches when you touch him – when he thinks you’re going to push your fingers inside of him – and he gasps and begs in the most appealing way.

You free your cock, and you shove it into him without ceremony.

Leon _really_ screams as you open him up, sore and shaking, his hands clawing at the ground beneath him. You look at his spread legs and his narrow waist, and at the small, fragile space you’re filling up.

You shove a few more inches into him on the next thrust. Leon cries out, voice echoing off the walls.

He’s so tight on the inside. He squeezes around your cock like there’s no more room in him, surrounding it in twitching, clinging heat. You push into him violently, watching his body rock between your hips and the cold ground, watching him stretch to accommodate your size.

Your hand finds it’s way over Leon’s mouth as you bottom out in him. Your palm is big enough to easily cover the lower half of his face, muffling him against the leather of your glove, making sure that his noise doesn’t attract anything.

There is no enduring it with grace for Leon this time. He fights back, and you must pin him down and _make him_ take it, holding him with bruising force as he screams and sobs beneath you.

His insides grow even tighter as your pace speeds up, and Leon’s shaking, gasping for breath.

You ram into him hard, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His hands scramble to grab at you. This time when he comes his hips grind into you, forcing you deeper as he cries out beneath your insistent thrusting. You watch him tremble. You listen to him moan against your palm, and it sounds like encouragement.

The room fills with the sounds of slickness and skin meeting skin and desperate, muffled cries. Leon’s back arches like a bow; he’s making himself take your cock as deep as he can, getting off on it, his insides squeezing tighter and tighter.

You feel like you barely fit. You like that about fucking Leon.

He’s hot inside, slick with your come, and you feel like if you’re any rougher with him he just might break. He moans like that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

You glance down between your bodies. Leon is so small beneath you, so fragile, so _full_ of your cock. His body rocks against the concrete floor, pliable beneath your hands. You let go of his face and grab his hips in both hands, propping him up onto his knees.

Leon allows you to reposition him without fighting back, and then you snap your hips towards him, and his whole body jolts. The new angle forces you deep into him, and there’s no doubt that he can feel it.

“Oh, fuck.” He gasps, finding his voice now that it’s free. “Oh my god, stop, stop, please.”

And you continue like that – violating him to the sound of him begging you not to – until suddenly you feel yourself hitting an intense, overwhelming pique, your rhythm breaking as you bury yourself as deep in him as you can.

Leon tenses, too, and you can hear his breath coming in hitching gasps; you can see his legs spreading wider for you.

Just a few more thrusts and you’re coming, spilling it deep inside of him, and despite the broken sob that escapes his lips you feel Leon’s insides fluttering around you.

Then it’s over, and you’re leaving him locked in the jail cell like a bird in a cage. You’ll be back for him, and you’d prefer that he stays in one piece.


End file.
